Gentle Progress
by a-violet-rabbit
Summary: Viktor Faust has lived his entire life below the smog of Zaun. Through the kindness of a Professor of the Piltovian Techmaturgy College, he aims to make the world a better place. Jayce Giopara has never had competition in the realm of academics. He didn't realize there was anyone on his level. Now, the playing field is even. named non canon characters. slow burn. forgive me.
1. Beginnings

The change of air quality was a simple one to any Piltovian. From smog to clear skies in moments, a comfort to those who had decided to venture down below for whatever reason they had chosen. Whether it was for Shimmer or Glitter, or for pieces of equipment not available on Piltover's gleaming, spotless market, someone always had a reason to come down.

Very rarely did anyone go up.

Viktor winced at the morning sunlight that initially filtered through, one hand lifting to hide his eyes from the glimmering celestial body. He had only ever seen it once, on Progress Day. As a child, it had been such an amazing sight that he had refused to look away - resulting in glasses and teasing from the adults.

Now, however, that was no longer his focus. Grey eyes refocused as the lift came to a stop, free hand lowering as the other reached down for his small, weathered suitcase - he still had to pay Mister Faircog back for the thing. His mind refocused on the task at hand as he caught a glimpse at the Piltovians who had taken such gracious notice of his skill; Stanwick stood there, beaming with all his might. A woman, cold and crisp with naught but a crucifying gaze, stood next to him; in comparison to Viktor, they appeared to be dressed to the nines, and the Zaunite suddenly felt exceptionally undressed.

Stanwick was plump by all regards, though it did not stop him from wearing a raincoat and a suit; reds and yellows fit him nicely, along with the strange, bushy moustache he had grown. It curled inversely on the end, yet still appeared quite welcoming; Viktor wouldn't ask, but he was mildly concerned the man's moustache was his mouth.

The woman, however, sent twists into his stomach. Tall, thin and lean, her dark eyes stared him down like a hawk. Ebony hair was pinned up into a tight, well fitting bun, and her dress was that of a woman in no mood for chatter. She looked almost as if she had mixed lab attire with high fashion and made it mesh with impeccable style.

"Viktor, I'm so pleased you accepted!" Stanwick was eager, stepping on the lift to usher Viktor off. He glanced around; unlike the ever busy Zaun, Piltover seemed to be calm in the mornings. A few street cleaners were busy with their work, and lab assistants - or what he guessed to be lab assistants - ran down the sidewalk hurriedly. How they ran so fast in coats that stuffy was beyond Viktor.

"Viktor Faust, meet Headmistress Miella Sparks. Headmistress Sparks, this is Viktor, the young man I recommended. His work is astounding for someone so young-"

"You have elaborated on this before," the woman replied, a sneer developing as she spoke. Viktor felt a strange urge to step back onto the lift and forget about the opportunity; her gaze was flickering up and down his body like a hawk. His old lab coat and hand-me-down clothing were being scrutinized, and somehow, he felt even more out of place than before.

"Mister Faust. I want you to be aware from the very moment you take another step forward that you are not here as an inclusion exercise. You are not going to be treated with special exceptions or handicaps. I am aware Zaun seems to give those out freely-"

"Zhey don't, Headmiztress."

She blinked. She seemed stunned, peering at him strangely. A raised brow, a lean forward, and the auburn haired Zaunite immediately felt like he should be running. She stepped forward, glancing him over, even as he shifted uncomfortably and cast a glance to the all too cheery Stanwick.

"You understand the ramifications? Many will assume you are a publicity stunt. Your professors will push you to your absolute limit. No Piltovian student will work with you," she continued. "None that are close minded. You will be rooming with someone of equal intelligence, which we will gauge upon your entry. You are a representative of Zaun if you step past this loading dock. Every important eye in Piltover will be watching you. I cannot promise I will be able to deal with any sort of discrimination until you prove that the assumptions about your city are untrue."

Viktor found himself staring up at her. She was far different up close; high cheekbones cast a shadow at a distance, but left her quite appealing in personal space. She looked almost like an exhausted grandmother, he thought, and it was a mild comfort.

"Yes," he replied, a curt nod with his agreement. "I am quite av-aware. I am happy to show my vork."

He grimaced internally. He had been born in the Entresol level, yes, but he had been raised below it; down where the accent of Zaun became thick and heavy. It would take years to get rid of it, to sound like a Piltovian.

Hopefully this would be over before he lost his language.

"You speak Piltovian astoundingly well. Stanwick, cancel the translator. He won't need it. Mister Faust," Headmistress Sparks said with a huff as she straightened and walked away at such a pace Viktor feared he would have to jog to keep up, "Welcome to Piltover."

Stanwick and Viktor jogged behind Headmistress Sparks, the former of the two keeping a stronger pace while the latter struggled to keep his suitcase. Light but awkward, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted it anymore.

Then again, it would be helpful to keep his few things away from his future roommate with.

As she walked and they followed, Stanwick told him of notable places along the way; the cafe on Copperwire Avenue, the library on East Third Street, the tailor on Steelbark Road. He tried to keep mental note, but if he was honest, it was all quite overwhelming; Piltover was clean, gleaming and shining and almost unnerving. He missed the busy streets and yelling over each other; the children who would run around at all times of day and ask for adults to play ball with them. Something told him such things weren't seen here.

Eventually, the Headmistress slowed. Viktor took the moment to catch his breath, leaning over onto his knees as he realized quite how different breathing was up here. Stanwick seemed cheery enough for them both, and when he looked up again, he was glad for it; wrought iron gates with copper inlay was the only thing now keeping him from an education.

"Professor Stanwick, go inform our students that there will be a dormitory rearrangement in the male wing. I'm sure they'd like to be aware before the semester begins."

"Right away!" Stanwick nudged Viktor with a laugh. "Don't get cold feet! The initial test is only an hour!" And the heaviest man was jogging through slowly opening gates.

What the Headmistress had done to open them, he had no idea. She gestured for him to follow, and so he did, scrambling to keep up as he tried to take in the sight. Seven main buildings, with a central building in the center; he guessed that the building Stanwick had run off to was the dormitory. Beyond that - he had no idea.

Perhaps it wasn't in his best interest to be hawking as he followed, he realized far too late - he had already slammed directly into another student, much to the amusement of the Headmistress.

"Watch where you're going-"

"Hy vas following her!"

"Can't walk and watch at the same time? What are you even doing here?"

Viktor got up, brushing himself off; the man he'd walked into, or had walked into him, was doing the same. Taller, by appearance stronger, and with hair half swept to the side -

"Giopara, return to the dormitory. Stanwick had instructions."

Giopara.

"Who the hells is this, Sparks-"

"Your father may donate money, Giopara, but he doesn't dictate who we let in. Now go, before you get detention the first week."

Viktor watched the irritated, blond man shake his head and storm off. He was stunned, shocked, even a little insulted; he grumbled in Zaunite, keeping his focus on where he was going as Headmistress Sparks continued on.

"Who vas-"

"That, Mister Faust, was Jayce Dean Giopara. You won't like him. Nobody does."


	2. Entry Day Jitters

Five flights of stairs and a walk through the main hall later, Viktor found himself clutching to his suitcase with a twisting anxiety. Grey eyes scanned every doorway, including the one he was led through; a single desk had been placed in front of a chalkboard, along with three textbooks and a packet of paper.

"Take your seat and begin. Once you start, you will have one hour from your pen touching paper."

The test itself was tedious if nothing else. His foot tapped the suitcase at his feet, even as he flipped through page after page and found what he needed. The pen shook when his foot stilled, his eyes flickered if it got too quiet. Nervous habits were hard to break, especially when you were simply trying to accomplish a stressing task in as little time as possible.

The questions ranged from basic mathematics to advanced engineering, as did the textbooks; it was like hunting a needle in a haystack at times, others simply using his brain to find the logical answer. How many times he skimmed over the same page was irrelevant; the number of questions he answered was all that mattered.

The ticking of the clock was the only thing that kept him paced. His anxiety was strong, though it was to be expected; the health of his university years was hanging in the balance. When the bell was rung and he had to put the pen down, his jitters somehow because worse, stilled only long enough to hand the headmistress the paper. It was fair to be nervous, he was sure, considering he was going to be placed with a likely abrasive Piltovian. He couldn't fathom being placed with someone below him in intelligence, in ingenuity and intuition - he might actually go insane.

The Headmistress was quiet in her examinations, leading to Viktor awkwardly and quietly playing with the pen provided; it had taken an hour to complete the assessment, and it took an hour to review, apparently. Viktor suffered the anxiety, biting his lip and watching the clock tick by. He had nothing better to do.

"Mister Faust, I highly recommend you head to the dormitory," the Headmistress said, finally breaking the silence. Viktor jolted out of his stupor, immediately getting to his feet and picking up his suitcase. The Headmistress gave him a look over her glasses, one that felt more scrutinizing than it actually was, and brushed off the sudden movement. He adjusted his coat, his nervous jitters finally making his hands grasp a little tighter than before.

"Professor Stanwick will receive your placement momentarily. I must wish you good luck, for you'll need it," she sighed, adjusting her glasses a final time before waving him to dismissal. He nodded, quietly escorting himself from the classroom with a hurried pace. Of course, he didn't need to speak; he knew well his accent was one that drew attention, which was the last thing he wanted attention for. Quickly enough, Viktor had escorted himself down the stairs and through the hall and down the outdoor stairwell; he recognized where he'd slammed into Giopara, wondering idly if he'd managed to make a bad first impression. At least the campus was expansive enough to never meet the man again.

He approached the dormitory, watching the clock of the main building. He knew how to read an analog clock; the flipping numbered ones were new, and not all of them accurate… or safe. Five minutes - ten, counting his descent, and he had made it to the dormitory entrance. He had finally found himself face to face with the round, squat Stanwick once again; the strange professor seemed a little put off, awkward even, as he helped Viktor up the stairs of the dormitory.

"Now, normally, we wouldn't be rooming you with anyone," Stanwick began. "Very few students ever score past the 1800 mark, let alone into the 1900 category, but you excelled in your entry exam. You were placed with someone of equal intelligence, and, unfortunately, I don't believe he's keen on it…"

"He's not," a rather strange blonde chided as they passed. "He's been cursing in Shuriman for the past five minutes. Good luck, newbie."

"Ezreal, shouldn't you be three floors down?"

"Shouldn't you be four?"

Viktor snorted. He couldn't help it - Stanwick looked hilarious when he looked almost like a steaming rat-skewer. He covered his mouth as he ignored the tirade Stanwick went on, the young blonde - Ezreal, he thought he'd heard - deciding to scamper off as quickly as his absurd boots would take him.

"In any case," Stanwick sighed as the blonde bolted down the stairs, electing to lead Viktor down the hallway of their current floor, "I believe we've almost reached his room. Come along then. Ah, right - the female and male dorms are separated on a biological basis, but if your identity swings that way…"

"I am very confident vith my identity, Professor," Viktor replied.

"Excellent, we don't have to deal with paperwork. Here it is," Stanwick chuckled, coming to a stop in front of a copper-toned wooden door. The number read 414 - fourth floor, fourteenth room. Viktor could hear the faint sound of foreign cursing, though he knew not what was being said.

"You'll receive your classes tomorrow morning, Mister Faust. Please don't make a professor come up here over bunk calls or chemistry spills - I believe Professor Mydra might actually shoot the next student who does that."

"I, ah, I vill try."

"That's all we can ask, I suppose. Here's your room key, and I'll be seeing you next week," Stanwick replied, handing Viktor a small, steel key that felt a little too light in his hand. He turned to ask Stanwick one last thing, finding instead that the man was hurrying off, going downstairs faster than Viktor imagined he could go without rolling.

Instead of chasing him, the Zaunite resolved to simply ask later, opening the door as he expected he had to. To his surprise, and heartfelt disappointment, a slightly familiar blonde-haired face turned to meet him. Bluish eyes, much like that of a beaker, met Smog grey; it was an almost simultaneous phrase, uttered in two separate languages, though Viktor could've sworn the other man had added a word.

 _"_ _You've got to be kidding me."_


End file.
